Amalgamated: Pretty Pain
by The Mistress Muse
Summary: He binds them. He breaks them. He bonds them to him. He is the endless circle and the unending, unyielding truth. They bleed, they blend, they fuse. It hurts - it heals - it makes them...his.


**-Amalgamated –**

 **Inverted** – How can I be here? What else can he do to me that hasn't been…forced on me?

I dangle, forsaken, bound above a floor that winks cold and sterile, medicinal, like a hospital…like a morgue. A drain waits for my blood. He'll bleed me…we both know it. It won't be the first time…it won't be the last.

 **Averted** – my eyes won't watch him come again. How can they? How can they see…his perverse delight? His…hunger? The want of him is in my blood, on the floor, in his eyes…his eyes…enthrall.

His mouth forms words, beautifully, perfectly, punishingly. He whispers with a careless…hunger. Doesn't he understand that I starve? When will he feed…my beast?

 **Perverted** – I must be. I must be…to crave him. To need him. He touches my belly. He touches and smiles. Cold. The bonds are cold. He is cold. He is arctic. His eyes burn. I hate him. I die for him.

The enemy is what he is. The Antichrist. He infects and rejects the truth of the human condition. He bleeds sanity from the bones of honor. He rapes the falsity of mortality from you while you cry, while you beg, while you offer more and more…and shudder…desperate.

He offers me the taste of him. His mouth. It tempts. It taunts. I crane toward it, weeping. Can't he see me weeping? I offer the cavern of my empty orifice for him to fill. His voice, laughing, "What do you want…Claire?"

I was once. I must have been. I'm not anymore. I'm his. I'm just…gone. I cried when he took me. I tried. I lied when he touched me.

A girl. A captive. Chris? Are you coming?

I'm coming. I'm coming…for him. I can't stop. I ache.

He doesn't even bind me anymore…unless I beg. And I do, pathetically, purposely, grotesquely. My face runs with tears, I tremble…release me, I bellow, so I can touch you…he defers…he declines. He denies.

He sits, patiently, a papa that waits for his dark daughter to sit on his lap. "Sit here…Claire." And I do. I sit on his lap. He strokes my satiny thigh while I quiver.

"Should I release you?"

I'm weeping, softly…sadly…lost. "Please…no." I murmur. He laughs.

I lift my skirt. I am bare beneath, smooth. As he likes me to be. As he instructs. I straddle him. He waits, watching. He is so amused. He is bored. I bore him. It hurts me.

"Now, be quick."

Chris, are you coming?

I'm drowning.

His enemy waits. He waits for me to strike. He waits for me to mount him. I slip my grip around his veiny, throbbing, frightening dick. I can't. I won't. I need.

How did he find me? How did he keep me? When I was so young…when I was so stupid…a girl…a girl that adored him. Captain….Wesker. No more Captain..now only…nemesis.

I'm dry. It hurts. He invades my body with his slick cock head. It's wide and encompassing.

 **Inserted** – I begin to tremble. I keen. It hurts. It stretches my sore opening and pushes into the confines of my body. Virginal. Always. I sink down and take it all.

He grunts, delighted. Red eyes. He pulses inside my aching body. His balls brush my desperate ass. Tickling. Teasing. I moan. I please him. And he rewards me with a kiss.

Undone.

 **Converted** – I let him touch me two days after I met him. He was my brother's boss. His superior. His boss. He came to see my brother at home. No Chris. Just Claire. Just…the baby.

The kitchen. The low lighting. I dropped a glass. I cut my hand. He knelt. He picked up the pieces and rose. He rinsed my fingers…he turned his head. Girl. Crush. Craving. I closed my eyes.

He kissed me.

 **Alerted** – Girl. Boss. Virgin. "Can I touch you, Claire?" That voice. Smooth and cultured. I nodded. He lifted my dress. He took my panties. My brother could come in at any moment. I feared. I wanted. He touched me.

Fingers pressing into my damp cunt. Unprepared. Unknowing. Untested. I gasped. He thrust. Not gentle. Taking. He takes. The nemesis…the tyrant…he takes. He took. And his fingers curled, curled, thrusting, pushing.

 **Perverted** – I grabbed. I gasped. "Oh, it burns…Captain." He liked that. He liked the title. He liked it. I said it again. He reached my hymen…amused. His face…delighted. His fingers probed it, pushing, testing. It hurt. I gasped, musical. He laughed…dark.

 **Concerted** – Halloween. All Hallows Eve. The doorbell rang. Kids for candy. Claire in her costume. Pretty princess…shiny dress. A child? A teenage girl. Seventeen. Lolita.

No kids. Captain…Wesker. "May I come…in, Claire?" Come in Claire. I shivered. I let him in.

Where are you, Chris? He wasn't there. Working. Always working. To take care of the baby he was raising. His sister. The…whore. That craved his boss.

 **Asserted** – Strong. He is. Handsome and dashing and cruel. He threw up my dress. He sat on the couch. I bunched it around my waist. "Now, Claire."

Virginal. Chaste. I climbed on him. I quivered. His fingers parted the lips of my body to play there. Stroking. Stroking. Sliding. Gasping and groaning, I arched. "Put me in you…now."

Wait. Virgin. I didn't. I feared. I hungered. I lifted and angled. I hesitated. Unsure. Unknowing. Afraid.

He gripped my hips…yanked. Impaled. Infected. I screamed. It hurts. I bleed. He laughed. I loved him. Inside my body. The broken barrier of my tender youth. The overly stretched walls of my body. It aches. It throbs. He moves. He moved. Now, I ride. Then, I quivered.

 **Alerted** – He lifted me, brought me down. I cried out, hurting. I pushed on his shoulders. He didn't stop. "Don't! It hurts!" He shifted his hand and stroked me. Soft. Kitten soft. He stroked my clit with his knowing fingers. Arrogant. His face was judging. I couldn't see his eyes. Sunglasses. Why didn't he ever take them off?

He forced my body to fuck him. Fast. Faster. It hurt. I rejected. He flicked, I retracted. I started moving, rolling. He wouldn't stop stroking me. It burned, it throbbed. I gasped. He kept on stroking while I felt my belly tighten, the walls of my body milking him. Milking. Sucking. Slapping. The wet squelch of juices on his lap. "Come." And I did. My body burst, so wet, spilling over his eager lap. I gasp, bouncing, flushing. I worry that I might have urinated. But it's just excitement. It's just come. It's just…need.

Subverted – He began to cultivate me. He would find me. He would beckon. I went. I wanted. In the park. In a cab. In my bedroom, while my brother slept one room away. Always I denied. Always I accepted. Always…I yearned. "Open your legs." I would. I did. He mounted me. Like a stallion. Covered like a broodmare. His fingers in my mouth. His balls slapping my eager ass. UNDONE.

Always, he'd push me over the edge. I'd cry, ashamed. Silly girl. Baby. And he'd whisper in my ear. "May I come in…Claire?" And I'd nod, dying for him. And he'd come, filling me up with his scalding seed. Dribbling. Nibbling. Dripping. Possessed.

 **Perverted** – I ride him now. Unchallenged. So bored, he sighs. My ass slaps his thighs. He waits, watching me with eyes like fire. Inhuman. Insane. Incredible. "Fuck me harder…Claire." I do. I wetly take. I try. I weep. I want to please him. I want to kill him. Enemy. Tyrant. Nemesis.

Are you coming, Chris? I think it's too late.

I come for him. I come on him. I gasp, soaking him. He grunts, grinding in my body. I milk him, wetly, deeply. My eager little cunt begs for him. He grabs my hips now, excited by my weeping and gasping. I crave it. I'm perfectly groomed. I'm his plaything. I'm his instrument. He's my muse.

Captain...my Captain. He fucks me now. Inhuman. Impossibly hard, too hard, I bleed. I need. I ache. "May I come in…Claire?" I nod, I weep. I want. I grip his slick black battlesuit. I grunt. He hits my cervix with each brutal thrust. He thunders. He waits.

I beg. "Please…please."

He laughs.

 **Perverted** –My breasts bounce. His hands torture. He tugs and bites and laves them. Tender, they ache. I moan. He strokes me. He strokes me while I feel him crush into the walls of my being and ram the slickness of his cock against the end of my body. He fucks. He fondles. I forget he's…the enemy.

Where are you Chris? You've left me to die here… **inverted**.

And his nemesis tongues my mouth while he fills me full of his seed.


End file.
